what a sight, both dogs holding hard with the boar’s head in between two beech trees with his shoulders too big to go through
Hi there my name is Roman, I live in mid Canterbury and this hunt started off like a lot of our hunts. A spontaneous mid-winter afternoon hunt, dogs are keen and fit from a lot of recent hunting, there is tig the pup whippet foxy English bull terrier I think exact breeding is unknown and duke the old main beardy airdale staffy lent to me by a good mate. We loaded up the land rover and took off to the hunting area only about a 20 minute drive, we collared up the dogs while trying to avoid the many forceful licks and cuddles from duke and trying to get tig to sit still long enough to do up the collar.
We headed off straight away, wet feet through the river great haha ahwell onwards, anyway we start off checking a few close gullies but there’s not even sign in them so we head back down to main river and head upriver, this area is all native beech forest with creeks running down to the main small river. We head up through the bush, plenty of old sign in all the old haunts but nothing quite fresh enough, we head up a ridge on a game trail following a faint sow print here and there nothing promising but duke is still out looking everywhere as always and even tig is ranging out 150 odd just looking. We eventually hit a bit of head high Manuka but same again just old sign, duke goes for a wee look here but turns back at 250 odd so we start sidling around hunting the tops of the guts and gullys in the native to no effect so we start heading down.
Still a lovely evening in the bush with dad and my brother so we’re all happy, we get about 300 off the main river and we’re sitting down resting the knees, we look around and realise we haven’t seen duke in a bit so I check the tracker and he is down on the river bed sort of doing big figure of eights. We think it’s just a hare like he is sometimes apt to do but no he heads into the bush on other side now he is about 400 away. Once he is over the 300 mark he is generally on a pig’s trail so we sit patiently waiting with tig fast asleep in a fern haha typical, anyway duke starts stuffing around over there up and down and all around then shoots upriver on the face about 500 and we hear his magic found it yodel and then a steady bail. Yahoo! so down we go, I give dad the gun so I can run ahead as tig although small is suicidal and holds everything to usually stuff all effect haha but it serves as a great distraction so I can run in and grab it but it’s not to be this time. We get down the wee bluffy bush face then storm up the river through the swampy bit and up a seriously steep face with a ton of bush lawyer before getting onto a bit of a terrace where it’s all beech and supple Jack and stop for a puff and a listen.
Great it’s just up here, tig sprints off and hits it while I’m still about 100 off which is a long way in that thick stuff. Anyway they’re having a good old scrap up there, tig is holding hard and duke bailing and getting the odd nip in.
I hear tig scream and a woof from the boar which we can now smell strongly. The boar comes barrelling down and along towards us. I can’t see it but can hear it and whoomfa, it hits me like a ton of bricks straight between my legs. Holy heck haha, I shout out to dad and Finn “look out its coming down”. It goes straight for them and veers away at the last second and heads downriver but still on the native face, both duke and tig hard on its tail. Tigs a lot younger and manages to catch it and secure it long enough for duke to get there and they grab an ear each and come up treed at 750 ish. Great down the face, through the swamp, down the river through some horrible windfall rubbish and up the face again to stop for a listen. I can’t hear a thing yet, the tracker is only showing both dogs treed 50 away hhmm, the horrible thoughts like dead dogs etc start but I bash on and what a sight, both dogs holding hard with the boar’s head in between two beech trees with his shoulders too big to go through and a dog on each ear on the other side, he was truly stuffed.
A simple job of sticking him where he stood and yahoo! Check the dogs out and they’re all good, one little poke under tigs jaw, probably that Yelp we herd at the first scrap but other than that all good. Dad and Finn finally catch up about this time and we pull the pig out from between the trees and it has nasty little poky tusks, only a young boar but has had good food in the native so fat as. We gut it and tie it up and away down that face again, half walking and half sliding but we’re in our happy place, onto the river, swap loads a few times down the river and finally get back to the truck. We throw the boar on the spare tyre, put the dogs in the box and head home for lasagne. Not a bad afternoon/evening in the bush, the pig weighed 110 pounds with sharp needle like tusks. We cut it all up for sausages and will put a sheep with it and get some tasty summer barbecue material. Tig got a small course of penicillin for his pokes and we found a couple smaller ones when we got home, he was still on the pills when we went out the next week and whacked a 209 but that’s another story.
Happy hunting Roman, Shawn, Finn, Duke and Tig